


Human

by Alsike



Series: The Diamond Universe [6]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Case Fic, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alsike/pseuds/Alsike
Summary: Emily's mother is dead, but her memory lives on, as does her desire to manipulate Emily's life away from serial killers and towards politics.  But sometimes, serial killers and politicians are not that far removed.[First posted nearly exactly 10 years ago, June 23, 2009.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Original Notes: 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Criminal Minds. There will be a cameo by a character from another fandom as well. I, however, was not the first person to cross over these two fandoms, and am completely stealing the idea from Argentine's [Jubilee and Fifty-Foot Janine](https://argentine-fic.livejournal.com/2004/04/27/). (Another fic which is hugely better than mine, and I consider to be basically canon).
> 
> Apologies: I meant to post more of this before i wandered off into Fake Empire territory, so it might be difficult to remember that this is 3 years earlier and picks up not long after 9 Crimes leaves off. There are no small children, and so fewer rainbows and puppies and more irritating adults.
> 
> I also don't know how the plot is going to unfold, but if i don't get comments i won't write it, so i suppose we'll find out together.
> 
> [Wasn't I a charming youth! XD]

A card fell out of the pile of mail that Emily had carted up the stairs. Her mailbox had been stuffed full of magazines and coupon listings after a week spent chasing a pair of serial killers in Chicago. She let out an ‘oof’ as she stooped to get it, nearly too exhausted to push herself back up.

Tossing the junk onto the coffee table, she flopped into the sofa and opened the card.

“Dear Ms. Prentiss,” it read, printed in embossed calligraphic script. “You are cordially invited to the gala ball and yearly meeting of the Home and Family Coalition. This year’s ball is in honor of the late Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. Please write donation checks to Home and Family Coalition, c/o Chairman Richard Kimble.”

Emily swallowed hard and her eyes fell to the spiky masculine handwriting below.

“Dear Emily, I was horrified to learn of your mother’s passing, and may have pulled a few strings to have her memory be the center of this conference. She truly was a martyr for the cause of peaceful co-existence. I would love to see you there, and there would be an opportunity to meet many of the people who prized your mother. Although I’m certain there will be an opportunity for you to give a speech, no need for you to do so! Please give it a thought.

Your Uncle Edward.”

Emily sank into the cushions and pressed her fingers into her forehead. The funeral was over. She had answered all the condolence cards months ago. She had been so busy with everything else going on in her life that she hadn’t even thought about her mother for weeks, more than in passing, as she always did when buying new clothes (her critical comments in her ear) or just looking at herself in the mirror (the same).

The Home and Family Coalition was an odd political organization. It wasn’t affiliated with a single party, and in fact had higher-ups as members from every party except the Communists. She had been dragged to meetings as a child, and nearly died of boredom, because everyone was friendly and convivial and _lying all the time._ To her it had seemed like a social club with some strange ill-defined political motive. Her father hadn’t liked the group though. It had been one of the things her parents fought about before and after they separated. But her mother had never missed a meeting.

Her Uncle Edward was actually her mother’s uncle. He hadn’t made it to the funeral. She hadn’t seen him in years. She didn’t want to go. She couldn’t stand politics and politicians. But it wouldn’t be easy to say no.

She should have been able to sleep. She was so utterly exhausted, but she couldn’t relax. The three am phone calls had become fewer in the past two months, with longer expanses of time elapsing in between, but tonight, when the clock blinked from 2:59 to 3:00 and Emily was still lying awake, she was the one who pressed send.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Emily.” Emma’s voice was low and a bit gravelly, and Emily wondered if she had woken her up, but that was one of the questions they weren’t allowed to ask.

“Tell me something.”

“Hmm.” Emma considered. “Well, I had an interesting piece of news the other day. A former student of mine, a troublemaker to the bone, is now working as an aide to a California state senator. I am actually terrified.”

Emily laughed. “What did he do?”

“She, I’m afraid. The females of the species are always worse than the males. She liked to pretend that her mutant ability was to create pretty sparkles, but in truth it was destroying electronic equipment. She took out every computer in the school once.”

“What!”

“I sent my apologies to the state senate.”

“Do you have many students who go into politics?”

“I wouldn’t say many. It’s never an easy route for a mutant.”

“I always hated political society. Lies, smiling and drinking with your enemies. Using people for what they can give you. Bombing the countries of your friends, but no hard feelings, because it was purely a political decision.”

“You should try corporate circles, darling. Then you’d understand what cutthroat really means.”

Emily smiled, knowing Emma couldn’t see its weakness. “You never talk about your family.”

“No. I’d rather not violate your ears with such an ugly topic.”

“Mine wasn’t that easy.”

“When did your father die?”

Emily froze, and then frowned. “He left when I was eight, then died when I was eleven.”

“I _wish_ my father had died when I was eleven. My life would have been so different.”

“It was hard. My mother… she pulled away when he left, disappeared into her work. When he died she wouldn’t speak to me or look at me for years. And when she did, she flinched every time.”

“As far back as I can remember my mother was lost in a haze of happy pills and vodka. I don’t blame her. She had to live with my father.”

“Is she…”

“Dead. Like Marilyn Monroe: sleeping pills and sedatives, with a chaser of vodka. She would have been pleased. It was ruled a suicide, to my father’s irritation, lost all that insurance money.” She laughed. “But it was probably an accident. Really the miracle wasn’t that she died, but that she lived as long as she did like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t pity me for _that_. Pity me that my father, the devil take him, is still walking this earth. God, I wish he were dead.”

Emily was silent. She wished they weren’t so far apart. She couldn’t read her face from here, or put her arms around her and hold her whether she liked it or not. The crisis was obvious in Emma’s voice, but although she had caused it, she couldn’t stop it.

“Is that enough?” Emma spat bitterly. “Or did you want to know more about the childhood that produced one madman and three sociopaths?”

“I love you.”

Dead silence. A long hiss of breath.

“Fucking hell, Emily! Don’t just… _do_ that!”

Emily did smile this time. “Sorry. I wanted to shut you up.”

Emma’s voice had grown quiet. “Why did you call tonight?”

They had already broken all the rules, what was one more?

“I was invited to a conference, a gala ball in honor of my mother.”

“Really?”

“They’re _politicians_. They want to make her into a martyr for the mutant cause, just because of how she died. She was doing her job, because that’s all she did. And fine, use her as a symbol, as a point of integration, but I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“You’re going, aren’t you?”

Emily blinked. “I…”

“It’s the Home and Family Coalition, in New York, isn’t it? Have you chosen a hotel yet?”

“I haven’t even agreed to go yet!”

“There should be room left at the Hilton. I’ll make certain. I would just have you in mine, but that would be unseemly, I suppose.”

“… Emma?”

“What? You didn’t think they wouldn’t invite one of their largest contributors, did you?”

Emily laughed with relief.

* * *

Garcia was disgusted by the amount of abusive language used towards mutants in the private emails of government officials and even widespread memos in certain departments. Muties, mutant freaks, just freaks, talking about registration, elimination, keeping the national news away from information about lynchings and murder.

It wasn’t even that secret, just like the old boys' talk about faggots and girly-men. She wondered how many secret mutants like her were in those departments, having to listen to this shit all the time. She was lucky that her team wasn’t like that. It helped that none of them were particularly normal to begin with. Even JJ was coming around to a degree that Garcia was considering telling her. They were such good friends that it always felt to her like an elephant in the room. She was just worried that after she told her it would change from being an elephant only she could see, to one particularly vivid to them both.

But as of yet, she had only found evidence of normal prejudice. She hadn’t seen signs of any nefarious plots. Even the pro-registration people were merely trying to draft a new resolution, and would wait for an opportune time to introduce it, rather than manufacture one. After Xorn trashed New York there was a flurry of legislation passed, but Garcia had managed to infect one of their emails with a virus that handily deleted all the related files, slowing down their progress until the flurry had passed and the legislation was again considered reactionary.

She thought she trusted the system, but she knew about disaster politics. Crises were dangerous times, especially with _this_ presidential regime in power. And Sage wasn’t entirely wrong. If she trusted the government to be able to change, she knew it could change for the worse as well as the better.

There was only one message that struck her as slightly odd. It was from a very pro-mutant candidate complaining about the new junior state senator from his district. It contained a lot of mutant abuse. But when Garcia read it closely it seemed that the real motivation was a combination of him being irritated by her being more intelligent than him, female, young, and uninterested in subordinating herself to her seniors. It was pretty vicious though, and the girl was one of the few members of government that had been elected openly as a mutant. She was already a target.

Garcia flagged the correspondence for her spider-bot to take a closer look at.

* * *

“Emily’s not here?” JJ stepped into the meeting room with a stack of files.

“Nope,” replied Morgan. “She’s heading up to New York today for a big party this weekend, the lucky duck.”

“A party?” JJ slid into her seat. Then shook her head. It was none of her business. “Too bad. There’s this case…”

“We pull more mutants?” asked Reid.

“Sort of.”

* * *

It was a strange case. The Sacramento PD didn’t want the news getting around, so they only asked for a consult, a basic profile that they could work with to catch the perpetrator. Homeless people were being murdered, indiscriminately. Their bodies were left on the steps of the state senate, in local neighborhood parks, one in the bathroom of a public library. All of the victims appeared human.

The police had assumed it was a violent psychopath, and had posted extra officers to keep an eye out. But so far, there was no luck. Also the method of killing was surprisingly dainty. The first few had gone unreported as murders because the COD was an overdose, which homeless people died of all the time.

It was only when someone reported a struggle between a small cloaked figure and an old man that they put it together. Officers had rushed to the scene, but the old man was dead and the anonymous caller had disappeared along with the murderer.

Then the email came to police headquarters. It was a maddened rant in all caps, taking responsibility for the murders. The killer claimed to be cleaning up society, getting rid of the lowest form of sapiens to pave the way for the development of the species, to make way for the rule of Homo Superior.

That was when the Sacramento PD decided they needed help.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Emma glanced up, catching sight of dark hair and blood red velvet. She stiffened, entirely ignoring the man trying to flirt with her (and wholly embarrassing himself) and _looked_. Eyes tracing down the nape of the woman’s neck, her straight narrow shoulders, the inward curve of her back.

Emily, turned, glanced up to see her and smiled with her whole face.

Swallowing, and trying not to be seen doing so, Emma tipped her head towards the hall and inquired with her eyebrows. Emily shrugged and nodded, so Emma made her (rather curt) apologies to the baron of corporate real estate who had been trying to arrange an assignation and ducked into the hallway, underneath the ornate swooping balustrades that supported the grand staircase.

Emily was waiting. Emma didn’t stop. She strode up to her, pushed her back against the wall (hands on the bare silk of her shoulders) and kissed her.

It had been _too long_. Too many nights spent listening to her voice, unable to reach out and _take_.

Emma kissed her until she was breathless. Then she released her mouth, but kept her shoulders clasped tightly, her thumb rubbing against the still reddened roughness of scar tissue.

Emily looked up at her, eyes glazed, lips swollen, and smiled. “I thought you were just going to say hi.”

Emma leaned her forehead against the other woman’s and let herself grin. “Hello.” Her voice came out in a growl.

Emily’s hands slid around her waist and she reeled her in, burying her face in her shoulder and holding her tightly. “It's so good to see you.”

It was even better to touch, thought Emma. The pad of her thumb rubbed against her cheek, and she lifted her chin to kiss her again.

“Well, well Emma. It seems as if there’s something you haven’t been telling me.”

Emma glanced up and grinned, tangling her fingers protectively in Emily’s. “Hello Tony,” she drawled out. “And when exactly have I told you anything about my personal life?”

“Oh, that hurts, Emma. I thought we were friends.” The man stroked his devilish beard. A rumble of laughter filled his voice as he spoke.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Unlikely.”

“You aren’t going to introduce me?”

Emma glanced from Tony to Emily, frowning. “I suppose. Tony, meet Agent Emily Prentiss, from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Emily, this is Tony Stark: alcoholic, megalomaniac, and the richest man on earth.”

Tony smiled and bowed, taking Emily’s hand to kiss it. “You forgot to mention lowly sapiens.”

“That’s something you have in common.”

Tony straightened and dropped his jaw in feigned shock and offense. “What? You mean all those times you rejected me because it would be degrading to be seen with a human, you were lying?”

“I was trying to protect your self-esteem. It was actually because you were too ugly.”

Tony laughed. “Oh no, I’m wounded to the core!” He turned back to Emily and smiled disarmingly. “Prentiss? Any connection to the honored 'in memoriam'?”

“My mother.”

“I met her once, well, more than that. She was… an interesting woman. Well spoken. More thoughtful and considered in her opinions than most presidential speechwriters. I am truly sorry for our loss.”

Emily tipped her head. ‘Our loss’ that was interesting. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s always nice to know someone who knew a part of her that I didn’t.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly at her words and the way she said them. There was a call from inside the ballroom, a large man in a tuxedo waved towards them, and Emily started in surprise. “Oh, I should…”

She slipped back towards the party, and Emma moved to follow her. Tony caught her arm.

“Really?” he said, leaning close into her face. “Law enforcement, Emma? Does she _know_ about you?”

Emma jerked her arm out of his grasp. “More than you. More than anyone besides… _Jean Grey_ , the crazy bitch.”

“A human and a Fed. You had _better_ be playing games Emma. If you’re serious about her… there are some people who aren’t going to be very happy. And most of them are here.”

* * *

“Now this is strange," said Reid, tapping his papers. "Look at these reports. On at least half of them the same person is mentioned as a witness or as one of the first on the scene.”

“What? Who?” Morgan peered over Reid’s shoulder.

Garcia grinned at the scene on her monitor. It was always fun to watch them work. And the surveillance helped her reputation as a goddess. She started hacking into the Interpol database for one of the other jobs she was assigned. It required four entry points and twelve different series of code to be submitted at once. They had fewer qualms about hiring mutants, and their security benefited because of it.

“Janine Kishi.”

Garcia froze. The program crashed, and a swarm of spider pursuers charged after her to find her location.

“Oh, shit!”

She hurriedly set up an extra VPN and led her pursuers on a merry chase, taking one out whenever she had the opportunity. It was absorbing, but her attention kept returning to the room near by. She couldn’t completely repress the niggling fear that she might have to admit some of her less than legal extra-curricular activities–or not see justice done.

* * *

“Emily! It’s so lovely to see you!”

It had been a long time since Emily had seen her uncle Edward, more than ten years, she thought. She had cut ties with her mother’s social circle when she left the Ukraine for college in Germany, and when she joined the FBI her mother had stopped inviting her back.

He looked the same, a few more lines around his eyes, a new, slightly swollen curl of flesh under his chin. His complexion was poor and she wondered whether he was having trouble with his diabetes.

“It’s great to see you too.”

He was her grandmother’s much younger brother, only six years older than her mother, and the only mutant in their family. There was some question about his parentage because of that, and he was written out of his father’s will. But he had become a very successful businessman in his own right. His mutation was an extraordinary power of hearing, and he was also an accomplished musician.

Emily’s father hadn’t liked him. He always said he was ‘unscrupulous,’ but to her mother he was the young uncle who passed out fifty-dollar bills at family parties, and she often sided with him. He had been one of the stress points that had led to their separation.

“You look so much like your mother!” Emily tried not to cringe. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I couldn’t believe any of it! What madness, horrible, horrible madness.”

“Genosha was… one of the worst things I’ve seen.”

He looked at her, his eyes sad and his mustache bristling pensively. She could hear the 'only one of them?' in his eyes. “Yes… I had forgotten your work. Your mother told me about the _sacrifice_ you’ve made. She was unhappy, but I was impressed at your commitment to society.”

Emily chucked at the very ‘politician’ comment. “It feels worthwhile,” she replied, playing along.

“Good, good. But what of your future ambitions? You can’t be planning on staying there your entire life?”

Emily gaped. “I- I just moved into the department I wanted. I haven’t… really been thinking beyond that.”

“Oh yes, the serial killing one. You mother… was not particularly pleased.”

Emily laughed quietly. That was a bit of an understatement. “It's what I wanted.”

He patted her shoulder. “I understand. You really get to use your intelligence there.” He tapped her forehead as if she were four. “All your skills. And what’s your position for advancement?”

Emily grimaced. Becoming the new Hotch? “I like my job. I’m not really interested in going back to paperwork.”

He sighed. “I understand. The boys will be disappointed, but they will adjust.”

Suddenly none of this felt as innocuous as before. “The boys?”

“Let me introduce you around. I have friends who are just dying to meet Elizabeth’s daughter.”

* * *

“Garcia, can you pull up any information on Janine Kishi of Sacramento?”

“The goddess is at your service.” It wasn’t as easy to be charming as usual. She had the files already saved to her fire-walled hard drive. All she had to do was hit print.

“That name is really familiar,” said Reid. “There was an article, I only saw the headline…” He flipped back. “Junior state senator from California.”

The first sheet popped out. It was the same article.

Rossi frowned. “A mutant.”

Reid devoured the article in a moment. “Wow. If I were fifteen again, she would be my role model.”

“What? Seriously man.” Morgan looked at the photo of the well-pressed Asian girl. “She looks about fifteen.”

“She’s 23.”

“Hell, at least she’s legal.”

“Her mutation’s intelligence," Reid explained. "She graduated high school at sixteen, started her own business, and then got a BA and an MA in political science and policy. She ran for state senate as an open mutant. Only about 3 others have ever done that on the state level, and only one won.”

Morgan rolled his eyes. “She does sound a lot like you.”

“I’d love to meet her.”

“Hold it,” cut in Rossi. “She’s not just some celebrity. She could be our unsub.”

Reid and Morgan exchanged a glance. “Are you thinking frame?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Slow down, boys,” said Hotch. “Lets keep an eye on the facts.”

* * *

“Frosty!”

Emma, just about to tell Tony where he could shove his 'advice,' at the call of the all-too-familiar voice, choked down her venom and turned just in time to be attacked by a spiky-haired yellow tornado. Jubilee threw her arms around her and gave her a kamikaze hug before ducking away and getting out of range of physical retaliation.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” she exclaimed.

“Jubilee?” Emma stared at the girl, who cocked her head and examined her ex-teacher with a frank stare.

“You look good. Not vastly aged.”

Tony guffawed, and Emma pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling the headache she was accustomed to in the presence of Jubilation Lee return. “And you are _still_ wearing that yellow coat.”

Jubilee spun so the glaringly yellow duster flared. “It's a new one, actually. But you can’t argue with style.”

“Apparently not.”

Jubilee laughed at her sarcasm and wrinkled her nose in consternation. “I think I missed you. That is really… really incredibly unnerving. Let’s forget I ever said that, okay?”

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

“Emily, I want you to meet Roger Crooke, California State Senator, but maybe next year US Senate, and then _President?_ ”

The man, who looked like a model for his Armani suit, long rectangular jaw, dark eyes, a flop of hair over his forehead, and a smile, more toothy and disarming than the usual model’s furtive grin, shook her hand and shook his head at Edward’s comments.

“We'll see.” His smile didn’t fade, and his comment sounded more satisfied than modest.

“Tomorrow, I suppose.”

Roger glanced at Emily. “Are you coming to the meeting?”

Emily blinked. “I…” she looked at Edward. “Am I?”

“Of course.” He patted her shoulder again. “Even if you’re not interested yet, it’s important for everyone to get to know you.”

Roger Crooke caught sight of someone and waved her over. “You should meet my protégée, Janine Kishi.”

“Hello.” The young Asian woman smiled and Emily couldn’t help but smile back. “You are Emily Prentiss, correct?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m pleased to meet you. I’m very impressed by some of the things you’ve done.”

Roger patted her shoulder. “This is Emily, not Elizabeth.”

Janine tipped her head. “Isn’t that what I said? In fact, I was thinking of the Kamas Utah incident.”

“Fiasco, you mean.” Emily didn’t want to think about that. The name of that town just brought up bad memories. Her hand shook slightly as the world faded out. It would be so easy to not be here right now, to not be anywhere…

“You caught the killer, _alive_.”

The two men looked blank, then turned to speak privately to each other.

“We had some help.” Emily knew she sounded stilted and unfriendly, but she couldn’t force her way back into the world so quickly. “I’m surprised you heard about that one. Only the people who are obsessed with serial killers and consider us the next best thing watch us that closely.”

“I have… recently become more interested in your work.” Janine smiled, but with a sickly look that matched too closely the way Emily felt.

Emily smiled wanly back. There was something strange about her; about the way she looked at you like she could read what was written on the inside of your skull. But Emily felt nothing inside, no scuff against her shields like she did when Emma had had enough of skirting things and decided to get the information the direct way.

* * *

“It reads like a total House Cleaner, except not. It’s the places the bodies are planted, like he wants to get our attention. The email too.”

Morgan agreed with Reid’s summation, and ignored Hotch and Rossi’s disapproving expressions. “It’s almost like the homeless guys don’t matter, they’re just convenient props in whatever game he’s playing.”

“Or she’s playing,” cut in Rossi. “There’s nothing to rule out a female unsub yet.”

“We’re not cops for a reason,” said Hotch coolly. “If they thought Kishi was a viable subject they wouldn’t have called us. We need a profile, not a suspect.”

Morgan frowned. He looked over the pictures of the victims again. “There’s something about this that’s bugging me,” he said. “Young Latin druggie, old white lady, old black man. I’d say the e-mail’s bullshit, and the unsub is a white man, thirty to fifty, wealthy, unmarried and successful, or at least thinks he should be successful, but pretty recently something’s happened to throw him off his game, and he’s blaming all the _others_ , because they’ve taken away his prized privilege.”

“Make that sound less angry black man, and you’ve got something we can tell our contacts.”

Morgan rolled his eyes, but sat back in his chair, nodding to himself at Hotch’s approval.

Rossi shook his head. “No way to make that fit an Asian woman? Look at the places, a library? That man you described, he wouldn’t set foot in a library. Not a woman?”

“You think it's some crazed librarian, tired of all the riffraff coming in without being able to read?" Morgan asked sarcastically.

“Should we just disregard the email?” asked JJ. “Could the unsub be like Morgan’s successful man, but be a mutant as well?”

“He wouldn’t have the same sense of privilege,” said Reid, thinking out loud. “It would make more sense for him to target higher-ups. The glass ceiling pushing him down, not the glass floor falling apart beneath him.”

“I don’t know,” said JJ. “Some mutants have a pretty strong sense of privilege.”

* * *

Emma had apparently not been to these kind of parties in a long time, if her barely post-teenage former students were showing up. Tony had pretended to see someone he knew and abandoned her to her fate. Jubilee was still emitting so much excitement that Emma feared for the fuse box.

“I think I was informed that you were heading off to LA to seek your fortune in Hollywood, the last I heard. How did you manage to end up working for the California state senate?” Emma asked her student.

Jubilee shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “LA sort of sucked. I did some extra work, and then got blacklisted for blowing up a trailer, so I hitched up the coast and crashed with Nini while applying for school. I worked on her campaign instead of paying rent, and she offered me a job, because apparently I didn’t screw everything up as was expected. It's a shit job, but hey, perks!”

“You’re in school though?”

Jubilee crossed a pair of fingers on both hands. “At _Cal_ ,” she said, with a rocking motion of coolness.

Emma tried to not let every ounce of pleasure she felt show on her face. “I’m glad to see that you’ve gotten out of your own way for once.”

Jubilee stuck her tongue out. “Come on, you’re impressed, admit it.”

Emma’s expression spread into a grin. “Just validated.”

“As if!”

“A little impressed.” Emma conceded. “Or would you prefer utterly astounded?”

“I’ll take ‘a little impressed.’ Because I am a little impressive,” Jubilee pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “But you always knew I had potential, even when it was locked so deep beneath my-“

“Delinquent tendencies?”

* * *

Emily considered the fact that ninety percent of the room was constituted of white men between the ages of thirty and sixty, all wearing tuxedoes (with black ties, the white ones would be broken out for the actual ball). As her uncle was dragging her towards yet another group of such men, sipping bourbon and speaking in hushed tones with cruel expressions, she wondered if it would be easier to remember their names if she wasn’t a lesbian. Women stood out sharply, and not only because of the variety of dress. She had always noticed that when she looked back on a party, the five or so women who had been there were always clear in her mind, while often the men, unless particularly distinct, had a tendency to blur into a faceless and indistinct mass.

“Emily, this is Sebastian Shaw. Mr. Shaw, Elizabeth’s daughter.”

Emily blinked in surprise at the sight of the animalistic man with muttonchops and a salt and pepper ponytail behind a receding hairline. He was certainly memorable, even before he took her hand, nearly grinding the bones together with the force of his grip, and kissed it.

“Yes,” he said with an odd hiss in his voice. “I’ve heard so much about you from my dear friend here.” He tapped Edward unaffectionately on the arm. His eyes scanned over her, looking for something she couldn’t identify, but she felt a rough sandpaper brush against her mind. It was weak, no chance at forcing its way through her shields. “I hear you are a federal agent. That must be… difficult, what with their attitudes. But we all must... find friends who are sympathetically minded. I wonder if you would be interested in your _rights_.”

Emily stared at him blankly. “I’m… quite happy at the FBI actually. What do you do, Mr. Shaw?”

“I survive on the good will of my friends,” he said, with an ugly tone. “Since my worthless son took my company from me.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it back soon,” said Edward, with a haste that suggested he head heard what followed one too many times already.

“Yes,” Shaw said. “I believe I will.”

Edward turned to the man standing beside him, one with a shriveled face, and a bald crown, rimmed with long greasy grey locks that curled at the ends. “And Lorne! How are you?" He gestured back. "My grand-niece, Emily.”

Lorne's hand was clammy and he gave Emily's a limp, feelingless shake. “Pleasure,” he said grimly.

“Likewise.”

“Your master didn’t join us?” inquired Edward, and Emily glanced curiously at him at the word ‘master.’

“No,” Lorne replied gratingly. “He did not think it was worth his time.”

Edward shrugged. “Well, not all of us have such effective lackeys to do our dirty work, I suppose.”

Lorne sneered and turned back towards Shaw.

Edward pulled Emily away, “Can’t stand him, really. A repulsive fellow.” He looked up and spotted someone else he knew. “Oh! Richard!”

* * *

Emma frowned. There was something wrong with the feeling around Janine's mental space, but she was another woman who had built strong shields by divorcing her emotional self from her rational self (mainly with the goal of defending herself against her younger sister’s flurries of passion, anger, disdain and resentment). And although Emma didn’t believe in ethics, she had standards, and invading a former student’s mind because something felt slightly off was not a route to be taken at the first opportunity.

“Are you all right?”

Janine nearly stepped back in shock at the question, but recovered quickly and flashed an insincere half-smile. “Of course. I’m fine.”

Emma shook her head. “I never thought of this as a place for you. You always seemed to intelligent to fall into their trap.”

Janine Kishi had been at the Massachusetts Academy during its most successful time, before exploding buildings and financial troubles scuppered it. Emma had run out of college preparatory curriculum to teach her after barely a year. She asked Janine about her plans for the future and decided to give her control of a lab at Frost Enterprises. In less than a year she had enough patents and capital to fund a fully self-sufficient business venture. They had only lost touch after Janine decided to move to California and study political science. Frost Enterprises still sold an entire line of products Janine had developed while working there.

“I want to change things,” Janine replied, with a slightly ironic grin that Emma recognized as one she wore herself when acknowledging the truth of an obvious cliché. “I’m not a warrior, but I don’t understand how so many people can be satisfied with the status-quo. It’s quite astonishing how people manage to blind themselves.”

Emma grinned. “Astonishing? Or just sad? But you shouldn’t be _here_. These boys are all about the status quo. They like fear and violence, because, as men with power, they are not a target. Fear and violence has the added benefit of weeding out the riffraff. According to those on the top, survival of the fittest always improves the gene pool, whether you're selecting for sapiens or superior, does it not?”

“I was invited. But I ran without their endorsement. I just wanted to get out of Sacramento for a little while.”

There was the feeling of _wrongness_ again. Emma didn’t like it, but she always hated seeing her students unhappy, unless they deserved it.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Emily had met too many slimy middle-aged men for one night. Edward had tried to introduce her to Tony Stark again, who looked at her and smirked in an obviously lecherous way and just said, “We’ve met,” before disappearing. After that Edward had made his excuses and left her alone.

She leaned weakly against the drinks buffet sipping ruby port very slowly. She knew by now to avoid the Cognac and Brandy at these events, because they took her out for the entire next day. The port was better, because the sugar would make her puke long before the alcohol would.

“God, these things make yourself want to shoot yourself in the head, don’t they?”

Emily glanced over at the impish Asian girl, clad in vibrant yellow, with jewelry everywhere and bangles up to her elbows.

“Not that I recommend it as a course of action. Open bar, eh?” She made to toast with her glass of yellowish liquid, probably sherry, and Emily met it with her port for a clink.

“Don’t over indulge,” she said, feeling weirdly parental. “Or tomorrow will be nasty.”

“I have an incredible metabolism.” She took a gulp of her drink and nearly choked.

Emily grinned. “That’s not white wine.”

“Christ, that has a kick! I thought they were just being cheap when they hardly gave you any.”

“Nope, why would they be cheap? They get to write all this off on their taxes.”

“Ooh, cynical. I like that. You been to a lot of these?”

“Too many.”

“This is my first, but I mainly came along because, hey free trip to New York, and my boss needs someone to make sure she doesn’t work herself to death.”

“I hope she knows what that’s worth.”

“Me too,” Jubilee stuck out her tongue. “This is kinda gross.” She dumped the glass back on the table and leaned against it, lifting herself a few inches off the ground with her hands. “Wanna play a game?”

Emily blinked. Even when she had been a kid at these parties, and not the only one, no one had ever asked her to play a game. The local kids would usually disappear together, and the visitors would hang off their parents’ coattails, whimpering. Emily usually hid under the desert table and read, until her mother found her and slapped her for not being social. “What kind of game?”

“Pick the sleaziest loser.”

Emily laughed. There was something devilishly impertinent about the way Jubilee wiggled her eyebrows. “There’s so many here, how do you decide?”

“All right, let’s say… him.” She pointed to a balding man with a ring of grey hair that fell straight past his ears and then curled loosely at the end. “What is the sleaziest thing you think he’s done?”

“I was introduced to him,” Emily frowned. “Lorne or Lewis or something? Apparently he has a master.”

“Really?” Jubilee wrinkled her nose. “I can’t see him in leather.”

* * *

Garcia stared unhappily at her screens. Her bot had returned with more emails, some vicious, some charming and friendly. It was so frustrating that she couldn't share it, but none of this information was admissible in court.

Reid frowned, scanning the data again. “You know what’s strange? The tox screen. Whatever they were injected with caused respiratory arrest and cardiac failure, but there’s no chemicals in their bloodstream. Instead there are blood cells with someone else’s DNA. Mutant DNA.”

“So the killer had to be a mutant,” said JJ.

“Yeah,” replied Reid. “Had to be… or killed with a syringe full of toxic mutant blood.”

Garcia swallowed. She opened doors to internal databanks of California prisons. She looked at the mutant rolls, dangerous mutant facilities, and found exactly what she suspected would be there.

He had disappeared through some clerical error or another, they thought. And to control panic the escape hadn’t been reported to the media. No one was supposed to know where the mutant facility was, for fear of terrorist action from either side. And so no one knew that he was back.

If she told anyone, she was as good as fired.

* * *

Emma leaned into Emily’s shoulder from behind. “They’re serving dinner soon. I, for one, despise mass-produced banquet food. Interested in slipping out?”

“If you promise me no politics, I’d go anywhere with you.”

Jubilee looked up from where she was sampling the bourbon and stared. She bounded over and looked curiously from one to the other. Emma groaned and rested her head against Emily’s. Jubilee stepped back and stood, arms akimbo, a dirty grin taking over her face. “You’re shagging, aren't you?” She pointed at Emily and wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re shagging Frosty.”

Emily looked awkward.

“Oh, _score_!”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “I assume you have met my former pupil, Jubilee,” she said to Emily.

“Not in… so many words.” It was slightly unnerving to discover that the young woman she had been evading the party with was Emma’s student.

Jubilee didn’t seem to have an issue with any of it though and shook her hand firmly. “Don’t worry. I was never into that.” She indicated Emma. “But, I do understand. You know, can’t sleep, and all day with in-your-face boobs. Things happen.”

Emily couldn’t help her chuckle.

“Please,” said Emma, exasperated.

Jubilee skimmed around to her side. “So, you guys are bailing? Can we tag along? I need to rescue Nini from the politics about now, and since you’re paying we can go somewhere good.”

She disappeared into the crowd to locate the mysterious Nini.

“When did I say that I was paying?” asked Emma to empty air. She glared at Emily. “You’re getting along with my delinquent student far too well.”

* * *

Nini turned out to be Janine, the junior senator from the California state senate. It seemed that she had also been one of Emma’s students. She gave Emily a curious glance and then a smile and it was obvious she had twigged.

Emma gave the command about where they were going and Jubilee leaned into Emily's ear. “She that masterful in bed? Because seriously, _leather_.”

Irritated, Emma took Janine’s arm and led the way out of the hotel.

Emily dropped into step alongside Jubilee. “You were Emma’s student?”

“Yeah.” Jubilee grinned. “She doesn’t talk about me? I was the worst one she ever had.”

“We’re you the one that took out all the computers in the school?”

Jubilee nodded. “I blew up the school once too. But I had a reason for that. The computers were an accident.”

Emily laughed. “You seem to like her.”

“So do you.” Jubilee wiggled her eyebrows.

Emily grinned, shaking her head unconvincingly. “What’s she like as a teacher?”

“Oh, she’s a psychopath. I mean seriously, psychopath. But she’s the best teacher I ever had.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. I used to be pretty ADD, not, you know, diagnosed, but if it wasn’t physical I couldn’t be bothered to focus. I was always off in outer space. But Frosty could always tell, and whoop, mental smack down, knocked me right out of my daydreams. Her class was the only one I was passing, so she took me for supervised study sessions after school. It was torture. But eventually I learned enough to control my own mind when I needed to. I really got my powers under control then too. I don’t know if I would have ever graduated if it weren’t for her.”

“That’s high praise.”

“It really sucked when she had to close the school. It was all Monet’s fault anyways. I couldn’t have cared less whether or not she killed her bitch of a sister.”

Emily blinked and looked unsure. “Uhh…”

“Oh.” Jubilee grinned guiltily. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything about that.”

* * *

After the banquet ended a small group of men gathered in a private room for brandy and cigars.

Sebastian Shaw leaned back in his chair and took a long draw on his cigar. “So, Edward, you really think that niece of yours has potential? Not too much of a loose cannon?”

“I’m sure she can be cultivated into what we need,”

Roger Crooke shook his head. “You mean she’s not prepared at all yet? Surely her mother…”

“Her mother and she were not on the best of terms.”

Sebastian frowned. “That could be trouble.”

Tony Stark chuckled and took a pull on his cigar. “I don’t know. She’s Emma’s new _petite amore_. She may be more cultivated than we think.” Edward gaped, and Tony smirked. “You’re her uncle. Didn’t know she swung that way?”

Edward snorted. “Do you take me for a fool? I was just surprised about who she was seing. I did not know she was acquainted with our dear Miss Frost. Or that _she_ …” His voice faded out, and he swallowed, clearly not in the present anymore.

“Or what new fantasies would pop up when you did?” Shaw asked with a sneer. “Our Emma swings every way.”

“I think that might be news to one person,” intoned Lorne slowly. “News he might be interested in.”

“Lorne,” Tony said hesitantly. “You’re not going to bring _him_ into this.”

“I can’t think of anything more entertaining than watching a parent discipline a child.”

Tony shook his head, but a secret smile twitched at the corners of his lips.

* * *

Watching Emma fend off her students was mesmerizing to Emily. Janine turned out to be, away from political society, a smart direct young woman with flashes of wickedness. Jubilee was clearly insanity personified, and they ganged up, attacking Emma with both logic and unreason. Sometimes Emma managed to struggle out on top.

They met in the bathroom, Emma leaning against the sink, waiting for her.

“Are you enjoying this?” Emma asked dryly.

“I am.” Emily cocked her head and bit her lip, considering what to say next. “It’s nice to see you with students who aren’t…”

“Dead?” Emma curled her lip and turned away.

Emily cupped her chin and turned her head back. She ran her thumb over Emma's lips to relax them. Then she leaned in and brushed her own lips against her cheek. “I have never seen you interact with a student before.”

“Both of these have graduated, so if anything it’s even stranger for me.”

“You didn’t lose them.”

Emma huffed into her neck. “Jubilee was kidnapped and tortured under my guardianship. And I don’t like seeing Janine here. These people are cruel and ruthless. She is intelligent enough to best them in a debate, but winning here is far more risky than losing. You know that. You were born to this.”

“I never wanted to come back. The longer I’m here, the more I’m forced to wonder what my mother did for them. Someone wanted to know whether I was interested in my _rights_. It’s like there’s this little feudal system that is in charge, based on nepotism and heredity.”

“It is amusing that they still believe they can trust family, at least until the child usurps the throne. But you’re lucky. Your parent is dead and your uncle is in desperate need of an heir.”

Emily gulped and pushed Emma away. She didn’t feel lucky; she felt trapped. “What? Me? What do they want with me?”

Emma smirked and turned towards the door. “Just your pretty face, I’m sure.”

* * *

It had been a pleasant dinner, and in spite of the sudden hit of information that Emily had been invited in the hope she could be useful to the coalition, the mood managed to stay light. At least it did until they stepped outside and saw the lights and sirens, and the dead man lying on the pavement.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

The older man with a thick curly beard, dark grey in the center and fading to white on the sides, lay half dangling off a bench, arm and head grazing the ground. His wheelchair, tricked out to carry his possessions, was pushed up against the bench. One of his legs ended in a white round stub with a spike sticking out of the bottom. The calf and foot sat beside the wheelchair. There was no blood, no obvious wound, but he was clearly dead.

“God, not _here_.”

Janine had turned so pale she was nearly blue. Jubilee had moved to stand in front of her, electricity running in waves down her fingers, as she sought an enemy to defend her from.

Emily glanced from the body to her two former students. “What’s going on?”

“There’s some creepy stalker guy following Janine around and killing these poor homeless people," Jubilee replied. "We were hoping for a break by jetting off to New York.”

“Do the police know about this?”

Jubilee rolled her eyes. “Duh. But they won’t accept that it’s a stalker and keep on trying to poke holes in her alibi. Actually, Nini tried to bully them into asking your team for help. I guess they didn’t.”

“I should call JJ and check.”

Emma put a hand on her shoulder as well as on Janine’s and pushed them down the street. “Actually, we should clear the area before the curious officers over there decide to take an interest in us as well as the body.”

* * *

It was ten o’clock, Henry was asleep, and for once they were both home on a Friday night. JJ was settled in Will’s lap, an uninteresting movie playing barely a degree above mute, and kissing his jaw, not put off by the prickle of day old stubble.

Something buzzed against her thigh, and she made a wordless sound and ground into it. Will stiffened.

“JJ, is that your phone?”

“What?”

The phone buzzed again and then started blasting a Midi version of the Second Brandenburg Concerto. Henry started to wail in stereo.

“Shit!” JJ rolled off of Will’s lap and fished around in her jeans for her phone.

Will sighed and levered himself off the couch, heading in to check on Henry.

JJ glowered at the name on the phone. “This had better be good, Emily,” she snapped.

“Do you know anything about a serial killer in Sacramento whose been killing homeless people around the state senate buildings?”

JJ gulped. “We… we just did the profile today. It was just a consult, not our jurisdiction.”

“Well, he’s just killed in New York, so it’s our jurisdiction now.”

* * *

Janine sat with her knees up on the edge of Emily’s bed, staring at the tiny bobbing heads of the BAU in the Skype window of her laptop.

Jubilee insinuated herself behind her, but every once in a while she’d jump off and pace to the door. Emma sat to the side, out of sight of the camera, and didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation.

“What was the profile you came up with?” Emily asked her team.

“Morgan wrote up the final version,” said JJ. “Most of the connections were his.”

“Yeah,” Derek leaned back a little so they could all see he was shirtless, ready for bed. “I figured it was a white dude, thirty to fifty, just realized his superstar status isn’t as stable as he thought.”

Emma snorted.

Janine, Jubilee and Emily looked over at her.

“You do realize that you’ve just described ninety percent of the people here?" Emma elaborated. "Is he a mutant or not?”

“Emma’s there?” hissed JJ, totally forgetting that it was not a private line.

Garcia chuckled from behind her camera. “Emily, I thought you said this party was business.”

“He could be either a mutant or not,” interjected Reid. “If he is a mutant, he’s a powerful one. Someone who didn’t have to work very hard for what he has, and now considers it his right to be here. If he’s human, his success came with other advantages, like good looks or inherited wealth. Something happened recently that made him realize that it wasn’t all plum pudding from here on out, and he decided to do something about it.”

“You have ruled out exactly no one,” drawled Emma, getting up and walking into the frame of Emily's laptop camera.

“The guy thinks he’s in control,” said Morgan. “He’s got a plan and he’s putting it into action. I doubt he’s getting his hands dirty, so he’s probably hired someone else to do the actual killing, leaving him with a squeaky clean alibi.”

“And the lackey is either a mutant, or a human who kills with toxic mutant blood,” Reid finished.

“Shit,” muttered Emma. Everyone looked at her. She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t do this as fast as I used to. And every third person in this hotel is has a nefarious plot going.”

“Telepathic evidence is not admissible,” snapped JJ.

Emma's lip curled. “I wasn’t planning on bringing a court of law into this. If people terrify and torture one of my children, they don’t get that privilege.”

Janine laughed weakly, but Jubilee looked down at her hands. Emily breathed in through her nose, trying to count to ten. She glanced at the computer. “Sorry guys,” she said, and closed the screen. “Emma…”

“What?” Emma snapped irritably in reply.

“This is my job, my expertise. You don’t have to take point on this.”

“Because you did so well _last time_.”

“I can handle this! I do it every day!”

“You don’t even understand why this is different! Every single person here is capable of this. Even if you find the culprit and arrest him, the rest of the room will mark you down as a target. Unless you're willing to prove yourself as ruthless as they are, you get one shot. They already know I'm ruthless. I'll handle it.”

“I can’t let you go vigilante.” Emily didn’t know what would happen if she did, not exactly. But Jubilee had told her about Emma’s sister.

Jubilee had defended her teacher, made it sound lighter, like it wasn't certain, or it wasn't a big deal. But Adrienne had betrayed Emma, hurt her students, and was a powerful enough mutant to go undetected by law enforcement. Emily also suspected that the public outrage about someone planting bombs at a school was tempered by the fact that they had only killed one mutant student. Emma knew better than to trust the authorities to protect her own. She took justice into her own hands.

It wasn't a surprise that Emma had murdered her own sister, but it was a reality check. Emma struck back when cornered; she often followed a skewed line of reasoning into ugly mistakes. And this was a student who was being targeted. When it came to her students, Emma didn’t have a concept of restraint.

But not giving Emma 'permission' had been the wrong move.

Emma turned on her, lip curled, an ugly scowl on her face. “You can’t _let_ me do anything. You are a weak, ineffectual human, and if you won’t listen to reason, go ahead, get yourself killed. I will solve this my way. Try to see if your toothless justice can keep up.”

Emma stalked out the door.

* * *

Emily was an idiot, a stubborn frustrating idiot. Emma had seen her pale and weak and injured too many times, and still she blindly charged towards her own death.

It was clear that Emily was too suicidal to be worth protecting. But just walking away was so much harder than it ought to be. You don’t save those who don’t want to be rescued. It’s not worth it.

Emma slumped against the wall outside of Emily’s room and reached out with her mind. This was still something that came easily, sliding in, brushing up against Emily’s shields but not enough so she could feel it. Emily was anxious. It was clear, even from the outside. She was speaking to Janine and Jubilee, interrogating them about the case, about potential suspects.

That the profile had come as a surprise to her former students. When you pictured a stalker or a killer, you rarely imagined one of your professional colleagues. But anyone had the potential to kill if they felt it was necessary. It wasn’t as difficult as some made it out to be.

She left the connection open, thin and weak as it was. It would give her a little warning at least, if Emily decided to do something particularly stupid.

She had made it to the door of her own suite when her phone rang. Scowling, she checked the number, but didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Hello Emma,” said the voice. “You don’t know me, but we have some acquaintances in common. I have some information that might help you, if you can help me in return.”

* * *

Emily rolled over in bed and groaned at her exhaustion. She had not slept very well. The tension of being on a case plus the fact that her body registered Emma’s presence, knew what that meant and was very disappointed at not getting it, led to her tossing and turning all night.

Someone was knocking on her door.

Her uncle Edward was on the other side, smiling nervously. “Good morning, Emily. The meeting starts in a few minutes. I was hoping that you would join me?”

Emily cringed internally as she was led into the long, dark mahogany-paneled room. Jubilee would have a field day with her sleazy loser game here. The looks she received were more putrid and suggestive than the night before, and she felt the hum of unguarded telepathic communication. Something scratched against her shields and stiffened them, sealing all the cracks and locks. Sebastian glanced up at her as she did that, blinking in surprise.

Emma came in late, in an ice-white skirt-suit, sauntering through the door as cool as anything, completely impervious to the irritated looks. A particularly sharp one came from Lorne, the bald man. But she just glanced over at Emily and flashed her a grin.

Emily swallowed hard. That smile was not one that should have greeted her the day after that kind of fight. Emma’s instantly recognizable touch brushed against her shields.

<< I need to talk to you afterwards. >>

<< Alright. >> Emily sent back, utterly bewildered by the turn in the situation, staring at her hands so no one would think they were speaking. From the looks to her that followed Emma's entrance, it was pretty obvious that everyone knew something was going on between them.

<< Tony spilled. >> Emma clarified. << I’ll rip him apart for that. >>

The first order of business was congratulating Roger Crooke. He had been appointed to run on the democratic ticket for the US Senate.

“California has an odd habit of electing Republicans on a state level and Democrats on a national level,” said Richard Kimble, shaking his head. “We’ve selected Bruce Allan as the fall guy for the Republicans in this race. But he should have a good shot at the gubernatorial post next go round. If he stays nice, we’ll make sure he has that.”

Sebastian Shaw gave Roger a weak and slithery thump on the back. “But Crooke’s our man. A couple terms in the senate, and straight to the white house.”

Kimble nodded sagaciously.

Emily watched sharply as the games were played. Men bartered for appointments, for nominations, for electoral votes. There were no party lines here, only a record of which party you ran for, and if you won the barter but the race wasn’t in your favor, there were swaps and plans and special vote collectors that could be hired for a price.

A particularly undecided race was debated for nearly a quarter of an hour. Shaw shook his head. “Lord, I wish I still had Tessa. No one has a head for odds like that girl.”

“It would be best if Pennsylvania started heading blue again, for the next presidential.”

“Weight it, you mean?” asked a young nervous nobody.

“Who’s dead in the water?”

Tony shrugged. “Why don’t we just leave it open for whoever they produce? Some local farmer standing up for the GOP.”

Roger Crooke frowned coldly. “Remember what happened last time we did that? The Kishi girl got elected. The Bay Area has become a rogue district. I’m worried for my old seat. We need to make a plan for that. Just put Smythe up for the Ligonier township and tell him to throw it. Who cares about some Pennsylvanian rotten borough?”

“Janine is a former student of mine,” said Emma. It seemed offhand and irrelevant, but it was a thrown gauntlet.

“It’s not that we don’t think she’s very intelligent…” started some whining no name.

“But she’s a young female Asian,” said Shaw flatly. “And an open mutant. It isn’t worth cultivating her, because she can never advance.”

“There are six Asians in Congress, none are women, and one represents _Samoa_.”

Roger chuckled. “As if being a mutant wasn’t hard enough. Asians aren’t even thought of as being American. They’re just parasites, taking what this country has to offer before fleeing back home. They don’t contribute.”

“And what, exactly, have _you_ contributed, Mr. Crooke?” asked Emma disdainfully.

Richard Kimble coughed. “While this is all very interesting, it isn't actually pressing, and we do have one more order of business.” He turned to Emily and smiled. “Ms. Prentiss. We’d like to offer you a promotion.”

* * * 


	6. Chapter 6

Suddenly the focus was on Emily and she flinched. Being here was like nothing so much as being undercover at Liberty Ranch. This was the moment that told them whether she was trustworthy or needed to be removed.

Emily smiled awkwardly. “I’m just a civil servant. I don’t know what help I could be to you.”

“I’m certain that you could offer great assistance. Your mother worked mainly to extend our network, brought us friends and allies. We could certainly use allies within law enforcement.”

“Why?" Emily tried to keep her tone light. "Are you serial killers?”

Crooke flinched barely perceptibly, but Emily saw it.

Kimble laughed. “I’m afraid your department is one of the least interesting to us. Except that recently, there has been talk of splitting your group into two, one primarily focused on mutant serial crime.”

Emily felt cold. She had heard nothing about this, and she couldn’t tell if it was a lie.

“We don’t want that to happen. Having a federal unit of Mutant Hunters would be backsliding. This coalition supports mutant rights. I know you support them also. You would want to stop this even without knowing that we did as well, wouldn't you?"

"I-- yes. I do agree that it isn't a good idea to have a separate unit responsible for mutant crime." Or did she? It was a complicated situation. Targeting mutants, persecuting them, would bring them back to the time of the Sentinels. But what she'd learned from the incident in Utah was that her team and the local police weren't equipped to deal with dangerous mutants who chose to use their abilities in a criminal way.

Emma was an example of this. Emily trusted Emma, that when she broke the law it was for a good reason. But she'd killed her sister. Emily wasn't a telepath, she couldn't feel someone's shock and horror, but Jubilee's face had been enough. Finding out that Emma had killed Adrienne had been the end--when Jubilee stopped trusting Emma, and had left her school.

Now that Emma was with the X-Men, Jubilee was glad to give her a second chance, but Emma had mindwiped the detective who had come after her. There had been no trial, no due process. It was a failure of the system. Maybe the worse failure was Adrienne herself, who had bombed a school, and the police had done nothing. Emma had to make her own justice. But criminals escaping and vigilantes being the only ones able to catch them--that wasn't functional. Having a task force like the X-Men that wasn't vigilante, but had the authority and support of a democratic government, might actually be a good thing.

"I'm so glad you agree," Kimble said. "We'd really value it if you could convince your _friends_ to make sure this won’t happen.”

Emily hesitated. “I… I don’t have many friends in the upper bureaucracy. I'm not sure if I could help you.” _Even if I was sure I wanted to._

“Yes,” Kimble made a worried expression. “We heard about the incident with Strauss. But she is barely a functionary. I’m sure you remember how to make friends. Your mother must have taught you that.”

She had. Emily still remembered the cold instructions: find out something they don’t want you to know, offer them something with no strings attached, ask for something in return. If they acquiesce too easily, they aren’t worth very much. If they don’t, play your reserve. Then offer another favor. The sweet overcomes the bitter.

Emily didn’t do favors. She did her job. She wasn't her mom, and that seemed to be more and more important every day. "I really don't think there's anything I can do to help you."

Shaw sneered. “Elizabeth was always squeamish too, playing both sides, I always said. How well do you know this one, Emma?” He glanced to Emma, who was leaning back in her chair, watching with an utterly bland expression on her face. "Do you think she really has our best interests at heart?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "If you can't sweeten the deal, I don't know how to help you. She doesn't have any problem listening to _me_."

The nearly infinitesimal movement of her body made it abundantly clear what she meant. Emily felt her face go hot, and she clenched her teeth, angry.

Kimble shushed them both and smiled at Emily. “I’ve heard that your current supervisor is having some troubles with his hearing. He should probably be removed from the field for everyone’s safety. I’m sure that you would do an admirable job in his place.”

“I don’t have seniority,” said Emily flatly. When would they stop trying to tempt her with words that did nothing but disgust her?

“I’m sure that is only a formality.”

“I don't want it.”

Kimble blinked in surprise.

Emily snorted. “At least Strauss tempted me with something I actually wanted. Did you even speak to my mother about me once before you thought I might make a good replacement for her? She could have told you, I’m a thief-taker. I don’t want your fame and power. I want to do my job.”

Kimble crossed his arms. “Then what do you want? What can we do that will help you do your job?”

“You can leave me alone. My job has nothing to do with you. I deal with the evil, the violent and the insane, and unless those are the people you want to protect, I can give you nothing.”

“And if we did?”

“I _would_ give you nothing.”

Crooke smiled harshly. “But surely some thieves are worth more than others.”

Emily locked eyes with him. “Some are worse than others.”

The room went silent as they stared each other down. It was Crooke who broke first, sitting back and laughing, shaking his head, as if to say, little kittens shouldn't use their claws, but it was charming when they did.

Uncle Edward gave a forced laugh. “Well, that’s obvious enough. I told them they wouldn’t be able to convince you to take the promotion now. Still feeling your oats, wanting the thrill of the chase, not the dull bargaining of the boardroom. But not forever, I would assume. Some day you might want something that it's not that easy to get. Just remember that we’re on your side, and you can come to us.”

“We hope,” said Kimble, “that if you are ever in a position to help us, you will not think on us too cruelly."

"Of course not," Emily said, burying her anger and suspicion and returning to a measured tone. "We do have the same ideals in mind. I'm sure we can stay friendly."

* * *

Emma offered Emily her arm as they walked out. Everyone watched knowingly. Tony grinned.

<< You’re an idiot. >> Emma thought at her.

<< I’m not getting locked into their game. >>

<< They’re paltry vote grubbers. They want your influence, not your soul. >>

That thought was so tiring. This might be Emma's world, but it wasn't Emily's. Once you took one bribe, allowed one person to sway you with blackmail, you were lost. You started thinking that your ethical choices were for sale. Emily's weren't. << I don’t have any influence to give them. They’re the idiots for not figuring that our on their own. I thought you were going to let that go and worry about the fact that Roger Crooke is obviously the one in charge of Janine’s harassment. >>

If Emily had hoped Emma would be surprised by her assertion, she was fated to be disappointed. Emma merely nodded agreement. << Or at least the instigator and the planner. >>

Emily frowned and glanced at her. << Why does that not mean in charge? >>

<< He’s human. >>

<< And that means what, exactly? >> Emily wasn't sure if she should be offended that Emma didn't seem to think that a human could be clever and capable enough to commit these crimes. "You think the lackey he’s using is controlling him somehow? >>

<< I can’t get into his head. It’s being blocked. Which means there’s either someone more powerful helping him, or he’s using a piece of technology that someone more powerful gave him. >>

A valid point. Emily puzzled over the possibilities, wondering if Crooke's ally was in sight or not. << Why are you helping me? I thought you wanted me to leave it alone. >>

<< Well, it’s obvious that there’s nothing I can do that will stop you from pursuing this. But you’re not equipped to deal with this. Not if there are two mutants involved. >> Emma ran her fingers over the strap of her shoulder holster. << Even with this. >> Emma was very good at holding in her emotions, except in telepathic speech. There was enough depth in that statement that Emily found herself feeling guilty. But this was her job. They'd fought over that before.

<< It’s not like I _want_ to do this alone. I could use your help. But I need to be able to trust that you will do this my way. I can’t let you just take him out… like your sister. >>

Ice was the only response. Then… << Jubilee told you. >>

<< It is none of my business. I know why you did it. I know that you thought it was your only option. But you can't do that here. You don’t need to. >>

<< I know. >> The response was short and crisp and felt like a lie. << I’ll help you. Bring him to justice, or whatever. You’re completely competent. >> That was a sneer. << You just need someone to watch your back. >> And that was an insult.

_You're incompetent and idealistic and you're going to end up dead. And if my students die and you don't, you'd wish you'd died too._

It was impressive how Emma could lie with telepathy even while making the close all too clear. They reached her door. Emma leaned against the wall beside it. Her cool blue-grey eyes scanned over Emily, as if she were undressing her. But what she said wasn't salacious at all.

“You shouldn’t have rejected their offer.”

Emily didn’t play politics for this very reason. She didn’t like to be lied to, manipulated, and used. Emma was just like her mother. And Emily didn’t have the strength to deal with that. She needed to be able to trust the people around her.

“Leave it alone, Emma. This is my choice.”

“You could have been director. You could easily have played your influence into the top position. You could fix their idiotic mutant policies, helped your _friends.” A flash of a woman surrounded by banks of computers._ Emily blinked, stunned. There was no way Emma should know about Garcia. “It’s your team’s indifference to influence that keeps them weak. You complain about too much work, too few resources, but you won’t try to change it.”

“Since when does playing those games change things for the better?" Emily snapped back. God, Emma pissed her off. "All these people are doing is selfishly abusing the system. They get their vengeance and their perks and that’s all they care about. They can’t care about anything real.”

“Oh, get over your idiotic childhood traumas and oedipal issues about becoming your mother! Politics is pragmatics, not whatever nefarious evil you think it is.”

Her mother. Elizabeth was dead and Emily still couldn't get _away_ from her. “I know where 'pragmatics' leads. Every bargain you make takes a little more of your soul, and it is far too easy to convince yourself that you did this for the right reasons. I am not going to step into that quagmire, I like myself far too much for that. And, I don't _want_ that kind of power, Emma. It's weak, diluted. When what I do might be small, but at least it's real. I finally got what I wanted, I am doing what’s important to me, and I won’t give it up for you or anyone.”

"You're right, it is small," Emma snarled. “How many do you help? A handful a year? Be honest. You’re helping yourself. Assuaging your guilt for being born wealthy by suffering other people’s pain. Covering up your own victimhood with reckless machismo.”

“ _How many?"_ Emily couldn't breathe. "One is enough. You know that one is enough. You knew that with every goddamn student you buried. I don't trust these people, Emma, and neither should you. You know they won't hesitate to sacrifice more of your students for their goals. I thought you'd had enough of that. I thought you were tired of watching your students die.”

And she had gone too far, she knew it by the way Emma’s face went white, her shoulders stiffened, and whatever fire there had been in her eyes went blank and cold like diamond. But she didn’t care. She was seething, burning up with fury and frustration at how Emma willfully _wouldn’t understand_.

Emma walked away.

Emily leaned against the door to her hotel room, then slid down it to sit on the floor outside, and tried to calm her rough breathing. She pressed her palms to her face and just tried not to lose control.

Why was she even here? This wasn’t about honoring her mother; it was about replacing her. She knew she shouldn’t have come. She had been betrayed by her body, betrayed by wanting something that didn’t even exist. If knowing how to hurt someone was intimacy, then she had it, but she had nothing else.

Why couldn't she just get used to being alone?

* * *


End file.
